


Scars

by dreadpiratewatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, John Loves Sherlock, John is a Saint, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Kissing It Better, M/M, Past Torture, Protective John, Sherlock Has Issues, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock's scars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadpiratewatson/pseuds/dreadpiratewatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock never wanted John to know about the scars from being tortured in Serbia. He tried to hide them as best he could, knowing it would only hurt worse if his boyfriend found out the truth. </p><p>But then, he forgot to close the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is just a little thing I thought of at three in the morning, so, I hope this is okay! I love you all!

It didn't take long for John to notice the scars.

Sherlock didn't expect it to take too long, but that didn't stop him from being startled by it.

It had been an accident. All he did was forget to forget to close the door while he changed.

Nearly two months into their new relationship, after the Mary debacle, the arrest, and the annulment, one slip up hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks. He and John had been intimate many times, the rough sex being absolutely mind blowing, and the sweet, compassionate sex being so gentle that it nearly left the detective in tears at the idea of being loved so much, but it was normally at night, in the dark of the bedroom, where the scars wouldn't be visible. Sherlock had been set on keeping it that way. He didn't want John to know.

Then, he forgot to close the door.

He was just about to put a shirt on over the scars when he heard the soft, but audible gasp of horror that escaped from John's mouth at the sight of the scars covering most of Sherlock's back, some deep enough to make it appear that he had been broken in three parts, and put back together again, or like he had been painted that way.

"Oh, god..." John's whisper came. "Sherlock, wha... What _are_ those?" There was no mistaking the horror in his voice.

The detective nearly kicked himself, knowing that he had forgotten to close the door. He never wanted John to see. "They're nothing, John." He replied quietly, but sternly.

He visibly flinched when John's trembling fingers suddenly trailed down the thick, angry pink and white lines across his skin. _"Sherlock."_ The whisper sounds so broken that he can barely stand it. "Sherlock... Please, tell me. What are these from?"

Sherlock swallowed hard, still keeping his back to his lover. He couldn't face John yet. He was too disgusted with himself. "Serbia." He rasped, too afraid to make his voice go any higher. "I was kidnapped, and they thought whipping me would make me talk. I resisted, so they did it harder."

John didn't speak a word.

His hand eventually dropped from Sherlock's back, but he could still feel him looking.

The detective sighed. "They don't hurt anymore, if that's what you're worried about. They stopped hurting a few weeks after I came back." He said softly, hoping it would ease some of John's fears.

"I attacked you." John's voice cracked, then, the most broken sounding, painful sob broke from his lover's throat. "Oh, God, the night you came back, I tackled you to the ground, I... Sherlock, you must have been in agony! Why did you never... _Jesus,_ Sherlock, you let me tackle you to the _ground!_ Why didn't you tell me?" The doctor's voice was rising with panic, and Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut. He never wanted John to see. He had been so careful.

"I couldn't." Sherlock replied, his voice tight. "You... You needed to do it. I was going to let you do whatever you wanted to me, because I deserved every bit of it. I was doing in hopes that one day, you'd forgive me and speak to me again. I deserved the pain, especially for everything I did to you. Besides, my body is just transport, John. It doesn't matter. All that mattered was your forgiveness, and I am far too lucky to have received it. If it meant that I was in pain for a while longer, so be it." His voice trailed off, hating his voice, hating his reasoning, hating _himself..._ He prepared himself for John's fury, which he knew was coming.

But, to his surprise, John remained quiet. He wasn't even breathing.

Confused, he turned around, and saw what he least expected; John staring at him with tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes filled with so much hurt, Sherlock felt his cheeks burn with shame. He had seen John hurt before, especially after Mary shot him, when they were in the hospital, when they got home and John would have nightmares, but this... This was an all knew type of pain. This was agonizing. This was angry. Sherlock didn't know where to look. He just wished John would yell, of punch him, or storm out to 'get some air', or something. _Anything_ would have been better than silence.

Finally, John sucked in a sharp, painful breath. "You _let me_ hurt you." He rasped, his tone hallow. He sounded exhausted. He sounded dead. "You let me hurt you, because you were afraid that I wouldn't..." He couldn't finish his sentence. _"Christ,_ Sherlock, I... If I had known, I would never have..."

"I deserved it."

 _"Don't say that!"_ John yelled, making him flinch. "Don't you _ever,_ for one second, tell me that you deserved to be tortured!"

Angry, Sherlock whipped around to tower over his partner, his hands clinching into fists. "If it kept you safe, I didn't care! If it meant that you forgave me, I didn't care!" He hissed, although his voice was cracking. "I do, in fact, though contrary to popular belief, have a heart, and it was always yours to do what you so pleased with. I didn't deserve the love you gave me, but I wanted it. I didn't deserve forgiveness, but I wanted it. This," He gestured to his scars. "Is just the price I had to pay for it." He spat the words venomously in his boyfriend's face, putting every bit of energy he had into making it sound awful.

John took a step back, his eyes wide and gleaming with tears, and with one look, Sherlock's tough persona was gone.

He swallowed hard against the lump that rose in his throat. "John... I'm sorry." He uttered so softly, it was barely audible in the quiet room.

The doctor didn't move.

Sherlock hung his head. "I just... I just wanted you to forgive me, John. I needed you. I still do. I didn't think I could take it if you cut ties with me all together." He whispered, hoping he was making some sense.

"I wouldn't have done that to you, Sherlock." John's voice was what broke him.

He let out a soft noise that very much sounded like a sob, and gazed up at the blurred figure that was his boyfriend, for once glad he couldn't clearly see his face. "I would have let you." He replied. Months ago, when they started their relationship, he elected to never lie to John Watson, even if the truth were painful. He never wanted to lie.

Suddenly, John was in front of him, and his hands, warm and soft against Sherlock's skin, were cupping his cheeks while his thumbs stroked at his cheekbones. He could feel the slight tremors that rolled down off of John's arms, but before he could react, he was being crushed to his boyfriend's chest, one arm across his slender shoulders while the other was buried deep in his mess of curls. "You idiot, I love you so much." John whispered as he ran his fingers down Sherlock's back, feeling every rough, bumpy patch of skin where the scars were, holding the detective close to him.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock croaked, burying his face in his boyfriend's neck, tightening his arms around John's back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, John." He spoke the words over and over and over until his voice was rough and hoarse.

When John pulled away, he placed his fingers under the detective's chin to lift his face. "Turn around."

The command was gentle, and Sherlock did was he was told, although he really didn't want to pull his eyes away. He turned around so that his back was facing John, and he suddenly felt self conscious as he realized John was analyzing every inch of his exposed skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake the discomfort from his body.

First came the touches, feather light, and loving across the rough skin. Then, John's arms wound themselves around the detective's torso, pulling their bodies together. John was flush against his body, the stubble on his cheek running over his skin as he nuzzled his face into Sherlock's skin. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine, and there was a light huff of breath as John laughed quietly to himself. Then, finally, came the kisses. The first one startled Sherlock completely, making him gasp quietly and send his eyes flying open, but John's arms only tightened around him. Along every scar, across every angry pink line, John pressed a soft kiss against them all, whispering _I love you, I forgive you, God, you're so beautiful_ after each one. The sensation was so new, and so painfully beautiful, it made Sherlock's heart ache in his chest. He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, it could have been hours, or is could have only been a few minutes, but, Sherlock had no intention of letting go.

Deep in his heart, Sherlock Holmes still felt like he didn't deserve John Watson. He felt that taking the love of the best, the kindest, and the wisest man that he had ever known was more than he would ever, ever deserve, in his entire life. He was ridiculous at times, he had a tendency to be rude, he had a tongue as sharp as a razor, and at times, he was clingy and possessive. Sherlock was certain that John could do so much better, and as selfish as it sounded, he wanted all of John's love to himself.

But... For the moment, he decided it was okay to be a _little_ selfish.


End file.
